


Programmed

by paperplanemax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Warfare, Science Experiments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperplanemax/pseuds/paperplanemax
Summary: It is the 22nd century. In a time when miscommunication has become the biggest, and therefore most primary, source of all warfare, the United States of America has initiated the new national implementation that will change everything: the Program. Every citizen is retrieved from their biological parents immediately after birth, administered as a member of the Program, and then raised inside one of the numerous facilities across the nation. The government's goal is to raise every child until age 15 with identical curriculums, ideals, and morals. That is until, for the first time in national history, someone breaks out of the Program.





	1. Chapter 1

He looked into her eyes and realized, over his sweaty bangs and blood-covered face and ragged breathing, that she was crying.  
There were no tears kissing her rosy cheeks. But he could feel it. She was crying. She was staring right at him, absorbing exactly what he had just done to her, and she was crying.  
And he knew at that moment, as a pair of desperate arms yanked him towards the opposite direction, that he had betrayed her.  
She believed in him, and he betrayed her.  
There was no going back.


	2. Chapter 2

Tonight I would kiss him. Or I’d at least let him do it. It’d been a week since he asked me out, and I’d been trying to buy useless time for me to mentally prepare.

I slowly combed through my wet hair in front of the mirror, trying not to cringe at the countless scars and bruises terrorizing my naked body. They were from all the years of training and sparring and training with the other Soldiers. And although I knew that all of us bared similarly ugly markings on our bodies, I couldn’t help but feel insecure as I thought about what Mark would say.

One glance at the clock flung me away from the mirror and into my small closet. My hands brushed down the short line of identical uniforms, and I picked out the only one I hadn’t worn this week.

Black military pants and an equally black tank top swooped over my slightly-overbuilt body. With my jet black hair swinging its way down to my ribs, it looked like I was a monster of darkness ready to engulf everything. As I shoved my feet into my combat boots, I carefully pulled my soft curls into a tight ponytail and messed around with my bangs. I was going on a date tonight, after all.

I didn’t check the mirror again as I slid out of my room and into the main hall.

The first person who caught my eye was, of course, Akhila. She was usually the one who caught everyone’s eye, though. She wore the same dull uniform as I did, yet her alarmingly beautiful green eyes kept everyone sneaking glances between their own conversations.

I walked up to her just as she nodded my way and fist-bumped her as usual.

“Come on,” she said with a smirk, “let’s go eat so you can hurry up and meet up with Mark.”

“Shut it,” I whisper-yelled.

She laughed in a voice that sounded so innocent and mischievous at the same time, and then she pulled me towards the glorious buffet table that only appeared twice a year for us.

We piled meat, bread, veggies, meat, fruit, rice, and more meat on our somewhat narrow plates. In a matter of seconds, we found our other friends and squeezed into their little circle on the fancy marble floor.

“He’s been looking at you, y'know," Raymond announced.

“I think I even see drool on the corner of his mouth,” Ethan added.

All four pairs of eyes floated to where Raymond pointed.

Mark’s deep blue eyes and cocky grin were indeed aimed towards me. I gave him a shy smile in return—my pathetic attempt at flirting—and gave my friends a warning glare to look away. They all did with snickering mouthfuls full of food.

“You never tie your hair.”

I choked at the sudden voice that came behind my naked nape. So did my three other friends. It took every ounce of effort not to immediately lash my elbow at the face inches away from me.

“I-I thought it’d be nice for a change.”

Mark flashed his pearly teeth at me. “It is.”

He ran a finger gently down the side of my neck, making me shiver and want to cough out all the meat I’d just gobbled up. I couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

“Get a room, guys,” Akhila groaned with nothing but amusement laced in her voice.

Mark lifted an eyebrow to my best friend as he grabbed my hand and pulled me up. Ethan smoothly grabbed my plate from my hand before I dropped it, and I gave him a funny look as my thanks. Then I was soon being drifted away from the main hall. Raymond jokingly wiped away a fake tear and waved goodbye at me with a hand over his mouth. I would have laughed, but I was too nervous trying not to trip over Mark’s long strides.

As soon as we were out of sight and blending into the dark corridors, Mark cornered me against a wall. I could have sworn I cowered below his towering height. He kissed my forehead like he had done every day since last Tuesday. But this time he kissed my nose too. And then his chin stooped lower and lower until—

“Mark,” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“I know I said I would kiss you today…”

“Yeah?”

"But... I kind of forgot. I ate some onions just now.”

Mark sputtered out an uncontrollable laugh right next to my head, swiping away just fast enough to avoid spitting all over my face. I noticed my hands were on his broad chest, and as I felt his guffaw rumble through those layers of clothes, I felt my face heat up.

“You’re adorable,” he breathed. Right before he kissed me.

It was warm. And weird. But relaxing. And also nerve-wrecking. And I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. But it felt nice, so I decided I wouldn’t have one after all.

After a moment, he pulled away. I noticed how uneven my breathing was, and he smiled at that.

“You’re the most adorable thing I’ve known, Joanna Kim.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! This is my first ever story on AO3. It's super nerve-wrecking, but I suppose I'll survive.
> 
> Constructive criticism is very much appreciated! Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

I soon learned that my boyfriend could have very well been lying straight to my face last night. Drenched in sweat from head to toe, with a dozen new cuts and purple spots on my limbs, somehow made me doubt that Mark would find me adorable at this moment.

“You’re out of breath already, Jo?”

I chugged a gallon of water from my bottle before racing back to the small ring my trainer was waiting at.

“Good girl.”

Before I could pull my arms back into a defense position, Wes rained his insanely muscled arm onto my left shoulder. I cried out in pain and shot several steps away in reflex.

“Now FOCUS,” he barked.

“Yes, Sir!” I spat out.

I furiously blinked away the hot tears next to my eyes before tightening my fists and charging forward. Right hook. Feint. Left elbow. Right knee. Back away. Breathe. Left jab. Right jab. Hit. HIT.

“Not strong enough,” he yelled.

I grunted out a few more punches and kicks in response before he grabbed my uniform and lifted me off my feet. I felt his torso shift forward, ready to throw me onto the ground, but I quickly grabbed his ears and banged my head against his. His grip loosened, and I swam right behind his back to toss him into a choke hold. It worked. Wes was now on the same ground he had aimed to pin me onto, and my arms were holding his thick neck hostage.

He patted the mat twice and I unwillingly let go. His shaved blonde head flicked back up as he adjusted his own uniform and nodded at me in approval. Although his hazy blue eyes suggested something other than pride and acknowledgement. Perhaps shame that he was beaten by his only female student—not that it was anything new at this point.

“Good,” he gasped out. “You’re getting better. Don’t fail the evaluation test again. It’d be a waste.”

I rolled my eyes. “I failed _once_. And I was hung over.”

“Yeah, well, this test is important, so don’t start those drinking games with those stupid friends of yours.”

“Hey!”

“What? Look at them. They’re barely functioning now.”

I followed my trainer’s indifferent gaze to the other sparring rings where my friends were desperately struggling to stay on two feet before each of their own trainers.

I shrugged. “Last night was Winter Banquet. Of course they got drunk.”

“Exactly.”

I glared at Wes before turning around to where my water bottle and towel lay. His rough hand stopped my shoulder.

“Hey, Jo,” he murmured. I looked up at him, surprised to see a hint of genuine concern in his taut face. “I’m serious. The evaluation test this week… something’s up with it. It’s different. I heard the bosses talking about it. It’s more… serious than the others. Just trust me. Be serious with this one.”

I furrowed my brows at him but then replaced it with a grin to make his worried gaze disappear. “I’m always serious.”

He nodded back. “You can easily be the best student in this facility. Don’t forget that.”

I saluted him with the coldest face I could muster, which sent us both into a laughing fit. Although Wes’ did sound a bit forced.

 

 

 

 

It was three in the afternoon when I was done with my shower. Despite the fact that all of us trained relentlessly every single day, there was no escaping the utter soreness and exhaustion that hit a teenage body after moving about since five in the morning. I had it easier than the rest, though, since Wes usually dismissed me a few hours before everyone else’s trainers called the day over. Wes said to thank my own skills, not him. But that was probably a bluff to just let himself hit the sheets earlier than his other colleagues.

I allowed my thick locks of wet hair to tackle and tangle against each other as I wandered around my room in my underwear. Four stainless white walls around me made up the fairly small cube I called my bedroom. Most Soldiers used their paychecks to order decorations and wallpapers online—the only form of shopping we’re allowed to do—but I always found it somewhat redundant and pointless. Instead, I kept one chapter book on the surface of my tiny desk in the corner, which I’d stolen from the library when I was 10 or 11. The robots who came to clean every other week never bothered to report the book’s existence to the Maintenance Team.

Right next to the bland and deserted table and chair set sat the tall wardrobe. Behind those skinny doors were the only clothes I’d ever recognized as my own. Then there was the door to the bathroom, and then the twin-sized bed on the wall adjacent to all of those objects. And that was it. All of it white, all of it mine, and all of it practical and absolutely boring.

Well—there _was_ one little detail that made life all so worth living: the Internet.

I finally mustered up the energy to brush my hair and make my way towards the empty wall across from the one where my bed rested. There was nothing on the wall but white. Until I touched it. Until I laid my entire right hand on the exact center of the wall, fingers spread wide apart and every inch pushed against the cold painted surface.

The naked lightbulb above my head on the ceiling dimmed its light ever so slowly in my little cube of a room. An illuminating light of soft blue traced around the outline of my right hand, growing brighter and brighter within a matter of seconds. Soon, the entire white wall turned the same shade of baby blue. Only the digital outline that my hand created was white on this new wall. I double-tapped the enormous screen with a finger and a regular-sized digital keyboard appeared right under my finger. In the center of the screen, the international logo for the Program appeared, along with a blank bar beneath it saying “Enter Password.”

I tapped in my password against the wall and logged into my account. Before proceeding with anything else, I pulled up my music files and played my favorite rock song. A few swipes up and down brought me to my last opened window. I played the video on mute and on full-screen. Before I could turn off the lights and admire the silent movie play on the wall, a solid knock interrupted the guitar solo blasting in my room. I stifled a groan as I paused the video and music with a tap and rushed to get a new pair of pants and a tank on. The knock came again, and I opened the door a bit too quickly.

I instantly threw my eyes to the pair of shoes in front of me and bowed my head ever so slightly. My right fist smacked against my left chest and my left fist fell to my hip.

After a few seconds, I lifted my chin and put both arms to my side. The tautness did not leave an inch of my body.

The Officer in front of my door was anything but tall, but her tanned rough skin and razor sharp stare commanded respect. Her hair was cropped neatly right below her pointy ears. I let the corner of my eye roam to her collar, where three silver coins were proudly polished and pinned.

Then I realized she was scanning me just as cautiously as I was, and our eyes met.

“Follow me,” she barked.

With my biggest effort at hiding the curl at my lips, the two of us passed by training room after training room. And eventually, we walked by the room with the loudest grunts and shouts. It was the Outer Patrol’s training room. I peeked inside for a good two seconds, scanning for any signs of Mark, before I was left behind by the Officer. Then I was rushing again to the back of her quick strides.

We rode the elevator past all eleven floors to the penthouse before the Officer announced, “In there.”

I pursed my lips so they wouldn’t tremble at the wide translucent walls and doors that lined up along every inch of this floor. I walked past the two doors on my sides and made my way straight to the one propped open ahead of me.

At the sound of my footsteps, the lanky well-dressed man seated at his desk slowly stood and turned to me with a wide grin.

I stopped breathing.


End file.
